Who Knows

The first time someone kills someone it must be devastating. The second time, it's probably already on its way to becoming a way of life. The guilt is probably much less disturbing and the feeling is probably dead. I have been at my job for years. I still enjoy it but the 'feeling' is not exactly there the way it used to be. I take my job very seriously and feel fiercely protective of it but I go about the daily business with my eyes slightly closed. The thrill is gone.

I find thrill in places I shouldn't. Sometimes I find myself sitting alone in silence and wondering if I'm a horrible person but it's probably the times I'm not wondering if I'm a horrible person that I'm actually the most horrible. I wasn't always this horrible. It is depressing to think of what I've become. I used to be such a goofball - I still am - but with this murky edge that I'm still not sure if I like. When I was 16, I would have never even considered smoking a cigarette or drinking excessively or slowly ruining my relationship. I would've never even known how to do any of those things. Last night I proved to myself that I'm capable of drinking over six drinks and being fine for work in the morning without Motrin or any sleep. When I was 21, I probably would've been impressed with this. At 24, I think it's kind of pathetic. I have little self control. I find myself in situations that I should walk away from and walk directly towards them. I always know something awful is going to happen when I have this overly excited feeling in my chest that can't be shaken until I've gone quite over the edge.

I could try to blame this for the millionth time on basically losing my closest friend's company to a stroke or a massive boredom funk but I can't help but also wonder if I'm just turning into a horrible person. What constitutes that anyway? Not thinking about other people's feelings? Not thinking of consequences of actions? I can't help how I am. I'm trying to revise my way of thinking.

A Few Things That Make Me Happy

Concerts
The National
Autumn
Learning
Good speakers
Writing
Margaritas
Charlie Chaplin (the cat)
Chelsea Lately
Shopping
Costume Jewelry
Shoes
Adventures
Beards
Keeping Up With the Kardashians
John Mayer
Record stores
Cowboy boots (I guess that's shoes..)

That's all I can think of.

Busy Days, Boring Nights

Sometimes I feel like such a loser. I'm 24 and while in those 24 years I've managed to make a few really incredible friends, I haven't really made that many as a sum total - or at least ones that I actually enjoy hanging out with. I don't know if it's me or them but usually I feel like it's too big an effort to make conversation and try to be genuinely interested in things that I'm only half listening to.

My wonderful boyfriend always tells me that the guys I hang out with (and therefore flirt with) are not "good looking" and when I start hanging out with attractive guys he'll start being worried. I do have a tendency to flirt with people that are not necessarily conventionally attractive. They're usually losers that are stuck in their parent's house and have no care that they're nearing 30 years old and don't have a job or a car. I like to pride myself in finding the good in people - even if it's buried way deep inside there. Lately though it seems as if my only friends are the losers and the scariest part is that some of these losers think I'm a loser.

I should clarify. It's not because of any of the usual reasons like I'm ugly or have no money, it's more because I don't drink enough Pabst Blue Ribbon, can't tell the difference between whiskeys, and don't like ska music. I know it should be a good thing to be considered a loser under these parameters but with a small selection of people I actually can stand to be around, it's rough. It's difficult to explain. When I hang around with guys like this, I genuinely do find qualities I like about them. A lot of people who have spent a lot of time watching funny television shows and sitting around drinking beer for the past decade can have really interesting stories. They're easy going and certainly don't judge anyone. They don't want to go to any snooty clubs where drinks are $12 each and there's definitely not an slimy pick-up lines or scumbag trash talking. It's basically sitting in someone's backyard or a local pub and talking about music or childhood - which I've always enjoyed. Since there's no fakery, the conversation is always upfront and pretty cool.

I know I should be hanging out with girls that like John Mayer and want to go to Forever 21 with me but show me one girl like that (other than the best one that lives too far) who is actually fun to be around. I do want friends with similar interests to me but they're all pretty ridiculous. What matters far more than those superficial qualities is the genuine feeling behind a friendship. I like to sit down and have a real conversation with someone and try to make them laugh. I want to go out, drink, have fun, and come home and feel like I lived a little. Although this rarely happens, when it does it's a great feeling. I feel like my mind is slightly jumbled right now with the heat and the fact that I'm kind of crazy in general but I want to find a way to meet more people that share my sensibilities, not my interests. The few people I know now disappoint me and let me down - and I shouldn't be disappointed by these people! I want to meet people that are so awesome I am rightfully disappointed if they don't call me on a Friday night.

I guess it's going to be another boring evening after work.

Boredom comes in Four Varities: Spring, Summer, Winter, and Fall

I found this little blurb I wrote about the month of April just now and I felt like posting it finally. I feel the way I felt when I wrote this a lot. I'm busier now but the sentiments are the same. Just silly.

I am having a pretty bad day. It's a Friday night and I'm alone with my cat watching Never Been Kissed. I'm most looking forward to watching The Soup in a hour and that's about it. I have tequila but I ran out of margarita mix and my cat (aptly named Charlie Margarita Chaplin) just broke my last remaining margarita glass while trying to play with the straw coming out of it from last night's festivities. Last night's festivities were crying while watching Parenthood (Peter Krause and Lauren Graham dating?! Love it!) and writing drunken emails to the 50 year old man I'm in love with - I didn't send them, don't worry.

So other than that, I'm basically listening to music. My LastFm account tells me I listen to approximately 12 songs a day and I guess that's about right on an average day. In the past week I feel like it's three times that. It is the only thing that makes me happy in a lot of my days lately. My month has been an absolute dud. I am tired of April (is that the month we're in? I don't even know). I don't necessarily want it to be the fifth month of the year already but I really am sick of being stuck in this stupid month (only stupid because I'm so bored right now). I have nothing personally against April. I feel like I'm talking about a person.

Anyhow, school is winding down and I'm attending the New Jersey Folk Festival tomorrow on campus grounds here at Rutgers University. They're focusing on music from the Andes which should be really interesting. I don't know how much I'll actually watch but I'll certainly give it a try. Maybe I'll take a picture or something. Maybe I'll wear something snappy for no reason. Sorry, I have a very difficult time finding the point of many things - this has been a problem my entire life. I can't tell you how many times lately I've been standing in line at a store or cafe and just as I'm about to reach the front, change my mind and walk out. I can never make up my mind and I don't even have that many choices to make. Well, that's not true. As a human we all have a thousand choices to make every minute. I could shave my head right now and dye my skin green with Kool Aid or something. I chose to wear a yellow knit hat today and listen to The National nonstop. Those didn't seem like choices but they were. No one else I saw chose to wear a yellow knit hat.

I'm extremely exhausted of being around people and yet I feel so lonesome when I'm just sitting here doing nothing by myself. There's no happy medium it seems.

So that was then.

And now you might be asking yourself "well, what does the picture accompanying this post have to do with anything?" Well it doesn't but a few weeks ago I was walking the now Jersey Shore-infested Jersey Shore when I saw one of those wheel games where the prizes are all records - and one of the records was the audiophile version of The National LP! Fantastic. I couldn't help but take a picture and jump up and down. And notice the albums on either side: Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd? It is rightfully in legendary company.

Sexism

It is almost unreal how young females are treated. I'm sure this doesn't go for everywhere but the level of disrespect is out of control in the year 2010. Either it's over appreciation because a girl is hot or under appreciation because she's a girl and males in charge think they can speak to them however they please. Either way, it's despicable and there is no excuse. I was just cursed at in an atmosphere (I will specifically not say where) that should NEVER have any displays of foul language. I've heard it before but never in the hateful, disrespectful way I just heard it. I should have cursed back or forcefully insisted that I cannot be spoken to like that but I was so shocked that I didn't say anything and to make matters worse a few minutes later I did say something very slight and he refused to admit that he even said it. Then he excused it by saying that he is tired and doesn't have time for this - therefore placing the blame on me and making it seem like I am the problem.

Saying "you fucked it up" and then hanging up on someone is never okay unless you personally know them and are in a heated argument. I don't take that kind of language from my own boyfriend let alone someone I barely know.

Maybe I'm old fashioned but that - for me - is absolutely uncalled for. But don't worry, I won't say anything to anyone. I'll just shut up and take it like a million other people out there.

Good Day!

I am Okay.

I haven't posted anything in over a month on this site. It's not because I haven't taken pictures of my cat (God knows I've taken more than I'd like to admit) and it's not because I didn't want to. It's just because I don't really write much anymore. 'Anymore' usually implies that it's finite - it's not something I will never do again it's just that I am not happy. Sometimes it's great to write when you're 'not happy' and other times the unhappiness takes over so much that it makes everything difficult. I have ideas - some I occasionally even write down - but absolutely NO energy.

My day typically entails waking up around 1pm, dragging myself to the refrigerator where I drink soymilk out of the carton (it's not that gross - I'm the only one who drinks it), dragging myself to the living room where my cat meows at me and we sit together under our mutual fleece plaid blanket and watch the E! network. Then - perhaps - my boyfriend will get angry at me and force me to get ready enough to go to the local Dunkin' Donuts where I buy the same thing everyday. The man behind the counter will inevitably ask me if I want my coffee iced and I will sarcastically tell him that I don't understand why everyone always asks me that. I want it hot.

That's the only thing in my day that is hot though - unless my boyfriend shuts off the air conditioning as he's prone to do. Sometimes I go to work where I sit in a box - with no air conditioning - alone and hear the floors creaking and the doors shaking from the wind. I sit here alone like I do at home, like I do at a concert alone, like I do at the movies alone, etc.

Sometimes it's a little dark to be honest. I'm okay. I frequently get asked "Are you okay?" in fact and although it's my least favorite question in the history of the symbol "?", the answer is almost always yes. Yes, a lot of people are 'okay' if that means they're not falling from a ledge, dangling 50 feet in the air or in the emergency room with their feet being amputated but that doesn't mean much, does it? And is it really that great to just be "okay"? Imagine if you go into a room to ask your significant other if a new outfit looks good that you're really proud of and they say you look "okay" - how will you feel?

I'm not alright with just being okay. As far as I know I don't have a horrific diesease and I'm not living on the streets (presently), both of which I'm thankful for, but here are some facts about me that could be construed as not so okay:

- I have a part-time job where I make very little money and have little human contact.
- I do not have much money in the bank.
- I worry about my parents every single day and God forbid what would happen if they were injured.
- My teeth could be a lot better.
- I am as pale as they come and every time I look in the mirror I am unsatisfied.
- I buy clothes to make myself feel better and then put them on and feel worse.
- Every time I shop I'm aware that I will have no place to wear these items - and I buy them anyhow.
- I am usually alone.
- I do not like many people individually although I like people as a whole.
- My closest local friend has been in the hospital for nearly six months and I'm still very lost without him.
- I hate my hair so much and I have no idea what to do with it.
- My best friend lives nearly 1,000 miles away and I see her maybe twice a year at most.
- I'm awkward and usually I don't even care.
- I think about death at least 15 times a day - and that's a small estimate.
- I don't really have any goals at age 24 but at age 16 I probably had 500 million.
- I used to love Broadway and performing so much but I got realistic very, very quickly.
- People - sometimes even very influential people - tell me I'm an excellent writer and use adjectives to describe my writing that are unbelievable to me but I know instantly that I will let them down so I don't do anything about it. This is probably the worst and self-defeating of all my bad traits.
- I am not particularly happy with anything in my life but nothing is awful either. It is the worst spot to be in.
- I like old men because I never had a father to rummage through his closet with a father smell and broad shoulders and all that protection that comes along with it.
- I have no motivation, no energy, bad sleeping habits, bad eating habits, etc.
- I don't see a reason to change any of that because I have no goals (once again).
- I don't know anyone who motivates me. My boyfriend is very motivated and therefore very self-centered.
- It's recently come to my attention that I come off as a little flighty or aloof sometimes - it's because my mind is usually elsewhere. Just because I am a young female does not automatically mean that I am dumb. I'm way smarter than most 45 year old men and everyone else. Sorry that I don't brag and gloat and flaunt all my accomplishments around like others do, the day I start trying to impress someone else is the day I become very uninteresting - and I have yet to be told that I'm uninteresting.
- I have little self-confidence although I know I should have more - so maybe that's a little confidence?
- I just don't care very often because if I put all my energy into caring I will care too much. It's all or nothing for me.
- I wish my father hadn't passed away. Something I didn't think too much about until the past six or so years.
- I choose to try to occupy myself and have fun and have hobbies instead of focusing on all the things I've written here. Although I've been homeless, seen my mother beaten up multiple times before I was even 5 years old, gotten attacked by a dog and have a scar on my face for the rest of my life, gotten dumped by text message, had knots in my hair for years as a child, had no clothes to wear, had our family's electric turned off (and phone and hot water and cable, etc), had my grandmother, father, and aunt pass away, have no relationship with one half of my entire family, battle every semester to get enough money to go to college, haven't graduated yet (at age 24), let go of all my childhood dreams, have few close friends, have little respect at work, went through Chris having a massive stroke, etc, etc - I STILL TRY TO BE HAPPY. I get very happy over little things - tv shows, commercials, concerts, a new song, Arizona Iced Tea, whatever. I get very happy over going to the same stupid bars and stores I've been going to for years. I get very happy over seeing other people happy.

I don't know why I wrote all of this but I was feeling extremely sick today and when I got up enough energy to start writing this is what came out. Lately everything seems like it is coming to a head - coming to a place where something has to break. I'm not sure of anymore than this.

I am okay.

My Cat is the Reincarnation of the Still Alive Halle Berry

All The Wine is All For Me

This is me, happy as can be, with my National setlist written by Aaron Dessner on a paper towel at the High Violet Annex, Friday, May 14, 2010.

Although they skipped over Abel and All The Wine because the sound quality was too poor for the louder songs, the set was incredible and something I will never forget. Front row, center to see Mr. Berninger is a dream come true for me.

Advice For the Best Job Interview of Your Life

I've had a rough morning. Yes, it's 1:30pm but that is when my afternoon begins when I don't have anything to do and it's raining too hard for a coffee run. Eventually when I get enough steam in my engines, I'll stand up, feed the cat, and brew a pot myself (coffee, not marijuana - although both would work in different ways).

My boyfriend has a job interview at William Morris/Endeavor this afternoon. Yipee! A big, snobby building full of small, snobby people that will probably turn him into a Jewish snobby jerk (not that he needs much help in that department). I understand the presitge of this agency and the excitement that comes along with even just getting the interview but what I don't understand is the facade one must put on in order to achieve said job. Why are there thousands of websites out there ready to be googled with titles like "Ten Things to Say to Get the Job of Your Dreams!" or "Shave Your Beard and Succeed at Life!" (more on that later). Young people coming up in today's industry are no longer working for people our parent's age - they're being hired by people much younger that secretly - probably - don't care if you have a beard and don't want you to say the prerequisite junk they get on every interview. My boyfriend was working directly below a 21 YEAR OLD at CBS. Do you think she even knows what a 5 'o clock shadow is? I doubt it.

If I were interviewing someone for a job, here's how it would go:

Me: How was it getting here today?
him/her: Well honestly the rain was awful and my hair would look a lot better if it weren't for that.
Me: Oh, that's fine. Messy hair is a sign of luck.
him/her: Oh yeah?
Me: Yes. Let's get on with the interview. Why do you want this position?
him/her: I really dig it. It makes me feel good to think about it and I'm ready to take on some new things, you know? I'm just excited and I like the atmosphere.
Me: Good answer. What are your hobbies?

him/her: I like music, making waffles on my waffle maker, drawing on sneakers, and sleeping.

Me: Excellent. So you're into both the performing and visual arts, cuisine, and relaxation?

him/her: Yep.

Me: Well I'm sold. You have the job. Oh, wait. Do you drink or do drugs? (trick question here)

him/her: Well I love a good margarita if  that's what you're saying.

Me: Report here on Monday!

And it's as easy as that. Throw in a comment about the cat hair on your outfit and you're as good as gold. Being real and being you is the key to life. Haven't any of you young people read a self-help book lately? Wake up from your bleary eyed dreams and get with the program. Most of the people interviewing you have just woke up from a hangover or having sex with their creepy partners. They're not focusing on you saying the right thing. What are the chances that they've always said the right thing? I'm so tired of hearing ABOUT saying the right thing!!! What does that mean? Hell, I might be terrible when I interview for a real job someday but I already sort of have a real job and have rarely been turned down from a position so I think I know what I'm talking about. I am as real as they come for better or worse. I don't have anything else up my sleeve. If you're not real and you get the job then did YOU really even get it? Or did some weirdo in a freaky Pee Wee Herman suit? I'm just confused I suppose.

Of course as we all know, beards are forbidden unless you are a homeless man (sarcasm).

Even my 23 year old boyfriend agrees about this point (as he said a little while ago). Beards aren't the hottest thing a gentleman could ever put on their bodies. They're not sexy or fashionable or handsome. Nooooo - on the contrary. They're devices to prove your ugliness and lack of motivation. If you can't pick up that razor then you can't hold a job! There is no one on earth who has a beard who also happens to be successful!!!!!!

Oh wait...

I'm on a Bloodbuzz (Ohio)

I think this photograph says it all. I'm totally obsessed and my boyfriend hates me but how can I not be? When you can sing like that and have a beard like that, there's nothing you can do to stop me from loving you.

Matt Berninger...aahh!

A Real Song About Real Things

It might be strange that I find this to be one of the most romantic songs I've ever heard but I'm a strange person. This is a great song and the lyrics are about a REAL relationship, not the fake garbage Justin Beiber wants us to believe.

Conversation 16 Lyrics by The National

I think the kids are in trouble

Do not know what all the troubles are for
Give them ice for their fevers
You're the only thing I ever want anymore
Live on coffee and flowers
Try not to worry what the weather will be
I figured out what we're missing
I tell you miserable things after you are asleep

Now we'll leave the silver city 'cause all the silver girls
Gave us black dreams
Leave the silver city 'cause all the silver girls
Everything means everything

It's a Hollywood summer
You never believe the shitty thoughts I think
Meet our friends out for dinner
When I said what I said I didn't mean anything
We belong in a movie
Try to hold it together 'til our friends are gone
We should swim in a fountain
Do not want to disappoint anyone

Now we'll leave the silver city 'cause all the silver girls
Gave us black dreams
Leave the silver city to all the silver girls
Everything means everything

I was afraid, I'd eat your brains
I was afraid, I'd eat your brains
'Cause I'm evil
'Cause I'm evil

I'm a confident liar
Had my head in the oven so you'd know where I'll be
I'll try to be more romantic
I want to believe in everything you believe
I was less than amazing
Do not know what all the troubles are for
Fall asleep in your branches
You're the only thing I ever want anymore

Now we'll leave the silver city 'cause all the silver girls
Gave us black dreams
Leave the silver city to all the silver girls
Everything means everything

I was afraid, I'd eat your brains
I was afraid, I'd eat your brains
'Cause I'm evil
'Cause I'm evil
'Cause I'm evil

Matt Berninger, I Love You.

I'm sitting here alone at 3:07am listening to The National through my headphones and thinking that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I don't know what else there is to say about this band that hasn't been said before - by me. I don't like cults but I'd gladly belong to any cult that had a gentleman with Matt Berninger's voice at the helm. This is otherworldly stuff. My words can't describe what this music is, it needs to be honored in a way my 24 year old brain can't even comprehend. I'm not worthy of this brilliant work - none of us are. I don't know how it's possible.

I'm not even drunk.

I don't know how they created this masterpiece. This is better than Tom Petty's "Wildflowers", my favorite album of all time.

For a more comprehensive review: http://musicmavens.blogspot.com/2010/05/listen-to-this-national-high-violet.html

Favorite tracks so far: Lemonworld, Conversation 16, Runaway, Anyone's Ghost, Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks .... and that's already half of the album.

On the Road Again

Sometimes I like to sit in rocking chairs in Belmar, New Jersey while my crazy cousin takes pictures of me. I'm very comfortable with the idea that my family is full of liars, losers, and weirdos. I'm just kidding about the liars part. Of course I'm quite different than that description. I enjoy scholarly pursuits like Latin American Studies and Spanish Poetry. I enjoy the irony of listening to Frank Sinatra during a 'summer wind' or Bob Dylan when all the answers are 'blowin' in the wind' right in front of me. Oh yes, I'm very funny. So funny in fact that I am deliberately looking like my twin Willie Nelson in this photograph, it's not at all accidental. I'm not just sitting around on rocking chairs looking like Willie Nelson all of the time. Best part was when a young country music fan timidly approached me after this was taken and asked for my autograph. It really happened.

No it didn't.

My relative,Willie Nelson.

My relative, Weirdo Cousin.

Who's that Lady?

I can't stop. She has so many interests and activities it's difficult for me to keep up - what with picking her up from ballet classes on Tuesday evenings to attending her piano recitals every third week of the month - phew. It's a full time job being a groupie to the coolest cat in the world.

No pun intended.

Hey Charlie, Why so Narcissistic?

Oh, that's right - because you're beautiful. You can primp and pramp all you want, Tramp!

Uncool and Uninterested

I am having such nonsense problems today.

I don't drive. Okay, that's out there.  Let me say it one more time: I DON'T DRIVE.

More than a few people are either astounding and/or disturbed by this fact. People can't understand why I'm a legal U.S. citizen and can't acquire a driver's license. It is not because I'm stupid, in fact I have never taken the driving test, and it is not because I don't have a desire to drive, when I was younger I begged my mother to let me taking driving lessons.

It is a combination of many factors the biggest being financial. I would rather spend my money on rent, utilities, clothing, and coffee than all the bills that come a long with an automobile. I am not afraid of driving, on the contrary I think I'd be a great driver, it is just that I am used to being a non-driver and therefore the prospect of becoming a driver so late in the game is foreign to me. This doesn't mean I won't do it some day but I don't know when that day will come. I feel a need to apologize for this and believe me it gets in the way of a lot of things big time but I have a tiny bit of a bank account because of this so I'm quasi-satisfied. I don't know.

Anyway, I am fortunate enough to live near campus and the university library. I take the same walk almost everyday - usually several times a day - and wonder if some of the cars driving past recognize me just through association with the street. I wonder if people I know are driving past wondering why I don't have a car and I sometimes consider the number of folks younger than me driving by probably thinking I'm a prostitute.

Today, on this beautiful nearly-summer day, with a million important things on my mind, I blocked all those important things out and focused on the aformentioned thoughts specifically. Am I un-hip? The conclusion I came to was a resounding YES - today at least. By genetics alone, I'm extremely hip. My father was a professional drummer in several bands with business cards referring to himself as "The Wolf". He had long, curly blond hair and wore tons of awesome jewelry. He collected skull things and listened to some rocking music for his time. My mom is the MASTER of music having worked at a record store for years and the warehouse of a record label back in the day. Her record collection would make any stupid hipster of today weak at the knees. She shares a birthday with Cher and has the hair to match.

All of this leads to my creation and my innate coolness. I think.

Today though I thought of the brillant Robert Downey, Jr. article I read last night in Rolling Stone. The writer mentions that on day one of the interview Downey was trying to make an impression. He had pre-planned what to say and how to interact with him. On day two, things weren't going Downey's way and his plans were screwed up - he had to show the interviewer a real glimpse into his life that included picking him up in his Audi SUV while blasting The Doobie Brothers. The writer refers to this moment in the article as Downey "not trying to be hip" or something along those lines.

Hey, writer, I like The Doobie Brothers! I recently saw them live and "What a Fool Believes" is one of my all time favorite songs (I played it at a bar one time and danced like a total maniac in front of many pairs of disapproving eyes... but that's another story). I know young people or writers for Rolling Stone don't find them cool but why the hell is a band like The Doobie Brothers being chastized in a feature article about Robert Downey, Jr.? It made me love Mr. Downey all the more - like that was necessary, the man is a God in my eyes.

ANYWAY, with this in mind, I stepped outside of myself and took a good look at me: There I am, without a car, 24 years old, walking to campus on a day when there is actually no class, listening to Eric Clapton's "I Got a Rock 'N Roll Heart" and wearing a gold elephant around my neck. I'm wearing a knit hat in 90 degree weather and a midnight blue jacket. Who am I? With my long, unkempt hair and furry eyebrows I could easily be mistaken for Willie Nelson's younger sister - or gay brother - who knows.

I always think I look like Willie Nelson. This complex has been going on since high school. I do not smoke enough pot to keep this persona up though.

Now, there is actually a sub-culture of young people who might find me cool if they knew me. The kind that hang out at bars on weeknights and think it's cool to have an extensive stash of Dave Mason vinyl but the reality is my personality is too kooky for even these people (and let's get real, most of those kinds of people are faking it anyway). I'd rather be with real people who don't share my interests than fake people who pretend to share my interests. I know there's a group of people in between but so far that's mostly been urban legends. That's why if I've met you and you like the same things as me I get way too excited. I want to be your friend instantly but most likely I won't be good at the upkeep (phone calls, hanging out, etc.). I usually would rather hang out with my cat and a cheap bottle of Pinot Grigio. It's true! Well not entirely, I really like going out but Steve does not. At all. It's a bummer.

Listen, if Ke$ha is considered cool and sandals are in, then count me out. I'd rather be uncool and uninterested.

Picture Me and You

Here are some photographs from today. We got dressed for our Broadway play, got some coffee at Au Bon Pain, and then came home and watched American Idol with homemade tacos (courtesy of Steve). He's a great cook and the last picture will show you how cute he is. I love him but sometimes we just don't get along. I know he thinks I berate him on this blog but this is just a place of honesty that maybe others can read and relate to in accord with their own relationships. I live with the guy, you know? You don't just dump a ton of money on someone you don't love.

Weird Non-Street Crossers

I was just discussing my love of Broadway a few days ago and now I'm going to see a highly anticipated Broadway musical, "Everyday Rapture", for free today. The lead actress (who also co-wrote it based on her own life), Sherie Rene Scott, just got nominated for a Tony Award for Best Actress in a Musical so I'm even more excited to see it. I read an absolutely glowing review in The New York Times the other day that really peaked my interest.

Other than that, I am a little uneasy about going to Times Square today. I'm definitely a very paranoid, nervous person - a real life version of a Woody Allen character. I know that might sound obnoxious but it's a perfect description of my personality. Basically my entire family is full of absolute maniacs that should be commited. No joke. My mother wouldn't let me cross a street alone until I was somewhere deep into high school (which could account for my lack of being able to cross one today) and my cousin plays way too much bingo.

These are the kinds of people that you laugh at in films or novels but don't want to be around in real life.

No, no. I'm kidding. Well, I mean if you ask my boyfriend who was scared like a little girl when my mother, stepfather, and I all snuck up on him in the middle of the night in his car on a deserted street, you might find that he wishes he didn't know us - but of course I can always throw in his face that his dad likes scrapbooking about the oldies and his mom loves The Real Housewives of Orange County more than him.

And on that note, see you later!

An Addition to That Last One

I think I can safely say I'm a professor connoisseur. Professors are my favorite thing about college. In reference to my last post, I will say that I did indeed tell my gorgeous ex-professor that he was my favorite. I'm not sure what percentage of that was the truth and what part merely talked about my favorite professor to look at. Not that he was a bad teacher, I don't feel the need to demean him but more to express my gratitude to the BEST professor I've had. Names aren't necessary because I don't intend this post for anyone except myself. There is such a difference between a person that is doing something for a paycheck and someone that has passion and real motivation for their job. Even the best looking professor looks dead behind the eyes if they're unsatisfied (which I sneakingly believe he is) but when they have genuine consideration for their students, it is a whole different animal.

On the last day of my news writing class today, the teacher bought us pizza and gave us hugs but it wasn't in the physical aspects that I saw the most caring. It was in the sincerity of his words and how they organically brought me to tears. The emotion in his words, in his pauses, and in his voice were overwhelming to someone emotionally unstable like me. It was jarring to see a person in such a high position show his feelings in such a honest manner. It is the kind of attention and REAL FEELING that is missing from nearly everything in this artificial world. It's the kind of thing missing from even my relationship (sorry, you know it's true sometimes).

It is the reality of putting what you love in the foreground and not being afraid to speak your mind. This professor made a connection with every student in that classroom - people of all kinds - that all felt his sincerity and were moved by it. I'm completely in awe of him.

I wrote a short story one time about that other professor (the gorgeous one) where I make a character at the end say, 'You are what I want to find someday.'

Well if that's true, this other professor (the sincere one) is what I want to be someday.

That is a huge difference.

Two Crushes (My Boyfriend Knows About Both)

I'll just tell you what they are up front: The National and my professor.

There was a crazy storm just now that came out of nowhere. I was walking towards a bus stop at school when suddenly the sky turned gray, rain started fogging up my vision, and wind was trying to lift me off my feet (some of that may be an overdramatization of reality).

The closest place to find shelter was the office of my beloved ex-professor.

In a perfect world: I would've run over to the building, pulled open the door, and ran into the hallway soaking wet and shivering. My gorgeous professor would've suddenly appeared and said, "oh no, you're cold. Let me help you." He would put his arms around me and run his hands through my drenched hair. He'd offer me his jacket and say, "Come into my office. I'm sure we can take care of this..."

In reality: I just walked a little faster to the bus stop and stood under the awning thing until the bus arrived. I was miserable and it was disgusting being on top of a bunch of college students all soaked and smelly.

Luckily, I illegally downloaded the song "Lemonworld" off The National's yet-to-be-released album "High Violet" last night and it has been keeping me company all day. It is all I've listened to on repeat for the past four hours (between classes at least).

After pondering the question for many years, I still don't know what categorizes a particular song as your "favorite" or if there is a reasonable expiration date on said comment but minus the semantics, "Lemonworld" is my favorite song right now.

The lyrics are outrageous in my opinion - really beautiful and almost dead in a very real way. Matt Berninger's delivery of these lyrics is equal parts dry & dead and alive & slippery. I think this would makes sense if you heard the song.

Here's a link to the song, hopefully it works.

Lemonworld Lyrics - The National
The deepest part of the song surprisingly are the "do do do do" areas. It's the way he says it.

So happy I was invited
Give me a reason to get out of the city
See you inside watching swarms on TV
Livin' or dyin' in New York it means nothing to me
I gave my heart to the Army
The only sentimental thing I could think of
With cousins and colors and somewhere overseas
But it'll take a better war to kill a college man like me

I'm too tired to drive anyway, anyway right now
Do you care if I stayed?
You can put on your bathing suits
And I'll try to find somethin' on this thing that means nothin' enough
Losin' my breath, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Losin' my breath, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
I want to sit in and die
You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
I want to sit in and die
You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

This pricey stuff makes me dizzy
I guess I've always been a delicate man
Takes me a day to remember a day
I didn't mean to let it get so far out of hand
I was a comfortable kid
But I don't think about it much anymore
Lay me on the table, put flowers in my mouth
And we can say that we invented a summer lovin' torture party

I'm too tired to drive anyway, anyway right now
Do you care if I stayed?
You can put on your bathing suits
And I'll try to find something on this thing that means nothin' enough

You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
I want to sit in and die
You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
I want to sit in and die
You and your sister live in a Lemonworld
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo...

Losin' my breath
Doo doo doo doo doo doo...

Christian Camargo

I have to do something to keep myself occupied at work!

I'm looking through some old online photobuckets and came across this collection of photographs that I quite enjoy.

911: Yes? Me: There's a mysterious creature in my coat.

...but she's cute so maybe I'll keep her.

Don't you think it's strange when people are in love with their pets? Yeah, me too.

Matt Berninger

http://musicmavens.blogspot.com/2010/05/ten-things-i-love-about-matt-berninger.html

The Broadway-Loving, Jason Mraz-pondering Vampire

I had my last Philosophy of Religion class today, went to Starbucks and bought myself a venti iced coffee with a delicious spinach and feta wrap. Then I meandered over to a clothing store and dropped a whopping $25 on some new threads (I don't know if this remark is meant to be sarcastic or not). Now I'm off to work until 11:30 and then hanging with my mother at her new pad until 2:30am. Then I'll come home, hug my cat, maybe watch a little Chelsea Handler, clean the apartment for our lovely house guests who are arriving tomorrow, go to sleep, wake up, go to work until 5pm, get an overpriced cab to the mall where I will wait for someone to pick me up and I'll begin my night which has a huge possibility of being fun considering the aforementioned house guests.

I'm exhausted already.

When I told my boyfriend over the phone that I was walking around downtown he replied, "Good for you", in strange, uppity voice that leads me to believe he doesn't think of me as the type who goes outside on nice days. He's correct in this assumption and it was actually painful for me to be around so many people wearing their summer outfits, looking cheerful, and casually laughing to one another while I sulked in my mysterious misery and wondered what a "paper gangster" is as referenced in a song playing in a store.

As we speak I'm downloading a bunch of Jason Mraz songs from days past - primarily off "Live at Java Joe's" and his first studio album "Waiting for My Rocket to Come". I haven't listened to these songs in years and I can't believe they weren't already on my iTunes - that I've had since 2007! I haven't listened to these songs in almost four years! I still remember every word and they make me feel so at home that it's almost eerie. In fact, it is extremely eerie. Jason Mraz equates to summer for me. It actually makes me really sad that the last time I saw him in concert it was mostly high school girls in the audience waiting for him to play "I'm Yours" and the concert overall was just 'eh'. He played for under an hour and never even touched his older, better songs. I'm not one of those people that always thinks a musician's earlier work is better than the new stuff but in Mraz's case it just happens to be true for the most part. I'm not the biggest fan of "I'm Yours" although I really do love "We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things." as an album.

Okay, well that's all I want to say I think.


Oh yes, one last thing. I don't know why I'm getting so misty eyed over my fleeting youth today. Other than Jason Mraz, I also downloaded some Broadway songs and wrote down every Broadway show that has student rush tickets in the city. I used to be flat out, down right OBSESSED with Broadway in a way that I've never been obsessed with anything before (and that's saying a lot for me). I lost sight of that obsession somewhere a long the way but still pine for it sometimes. There's still nothing like the lights going down in a theatre to give you goosebumps. It's one of the greatest feelings in the world.

Okay, now you can go. That's all I wanted to say.

Thanks for listening.

WARNING: If None of This Makes Sense It's Because I'm Totally Drunk. Thanks.

I actually got my Jewish boyfriend to go out tonight at 12:30am and we "enjoyed" an interesting night at a local New Brunswick hangout. It's not the most glamorous thing but it's okay on a night with nothing else going on. It's acceptable and I actually like the little outdoor area they have. I don't know - if I had my choice of anywhere on earth to be right now I wouldn't even know what to say. You only consider what's normal from your own experience, right? Luckily, I've never had a normal experience in my life.

My boyfriend loves normal things and strives to be a normal, well adjusted, motivated individual. I disagree with his entire way of life personally. I'd prefer one extreme or the other: exceptionally sophisticated, poetry loving professor or totally free spirited, laid back Jason Mraz-type guy but he's somewhere in between I guess. I don't know. I love the idiot - for better or worse. I've been with him long enough. There has to be SOMETHING good. I don't know anyone that has been with their partner as long as we've been together. I think many would be surprised to know we've been together 6 1/2 years. It's shocking to even write. What are we doing correctly? Are we?

Relationships are incredibly tricky. I can't stop myself from thinking other men are gorgeous but I'd never go much further than that. I'm not a big believer in monogamy but yet I've been monogamous for so long now. I can't wrap my mind around it.

I drank quite a bit tonight, although it's never enough for me, a wonderfully advanced aspiring alcoholic, but still - I can't get my mind around it.

I talk about my lovely close friend a lot - a male - and we get a long incredibly and have so much love for each other it's ridiculous but my boyfriend is still the guy I come home to. He's a good person in a million ways. I may refer to his religion often but I do love him. He's just got a lot of flaws. So do I. I'm just much cooler and way more fun.

I wish I knew more people who drank. Margaritas particularly. I can't promise that if a Spanish Robert Downey, Jr. hit on me tomorrow I wouldn't be tempted... but then again there's no place like home... and that's with Steve.

Gee, Thanks For Your Time, Cats.

Oh, hi. I wasn't expecting you. Hope you're enjoying your day. Here's a photograph of me in a fit of love with Charlie Margarita Chaplin, my black Maine Coon cat.

Here's another snapshot of me in full rapture.

This is when she told me to stop being creepy and I think she's just kidding around.

Then she walked out of the room to do a crossword puzzle and I was left on my own.

In the Depths of My Soul: If I Had One

Sometimes I feel like I'm on the verge of going insane. I want to do crazy things like spill my coffee on other people's faces or throw rocks through my own window. I can't entirely explain it but I'm a little on the nutty side. I'm not a fan of being conventionally "normal" - whatever that means - but I'm also not a fan of completely sticking out like a sour thumb (I don't even think that's the right reference.)

I don't want to be like this guy:



But I also don't want to be like this one:



It's a fine line we all walk.

I'm tired of analyzing my words when other people are around or thinking I snuggle with my cat too much. So what? That's what I say. So what if I call you a hopeless snaggletooth nobody with a black heart or I enjoy lounging with a purring ball of fur all day instead of reading a school book? I mean who is really getting hurt in the end?

I super glued a ring back together, watched "The Middle" on ABC, had way too much Chipotle, put on a puppet show for my boyfriend, and downloaded Ruben Studdard and Shania Twain today. I'm going back for more. My life is one heck of a good time!



Wow. I'm pretty pleased with the realism of this superb photograph.

Handling Youngsters: A Beginner's Manual

Have you ever found yourself pulling over on a side street to eat a falaffel on your way to visit a friend at a rehab center only to realize that you accidentally pulled in front of the house a professor you're madly in love with?

Well that happened to my Jewish boyfriend and me today. I was in the middle of a delicious olive and lettuce sandwich from Subway and suddenly I spotted my professor's - let's call him Juan - car in the driveway. I immediately directed my boyfriend to another location where we sat eating a little more peacefully near some scuzzy apartments.

Later on in our travels, we were nearly assaulted when a little girl in a pastel purple t-shirt began hopping towards the car. My boyfriend - who we'll call Sherman - quickly locked the car doors just in time. The little girl then ran into a nearby location, presumably her home, so a crisis was averted yet again.

Even later on in the evening, I attended a meeting with a group for a class entitled "Gender, Race, and Class in the Media" at a cafe named after a Red Lion. Since I'm not hip to the culture of youngsters, they soon informed me that 'iPhone people' and 'Blackberry people' are in a war against one another all across the country. They asked me quickfire questions about whether I knew what "3G" was or if I had a "Shazaam app" or something along those lines.

I told them I like my Blackberry (which until this point I thought was the cool phone to have) and jokingly insisted that any phone that John Mayer endorses is okay with me (I again mistakenly believed that John Mayer is cool with the kids). I instantly got the response from a young, dark-haired beauty that "friends who have met John Mayer" say he is a "douche".

"Why would you like a phone endorsed by a douche?"

Since I've never had this question posed to me before I had no answer.

"I'm much older than you. When I was in high school we didn't know he was a douche yet."

So that was the end of that. I was the weird old auntie until I got back in their good graces with my superb knowledge of the Kardashian sisters and my dislike of the new E! series "Pretty Wild". Ironically, the young lady in my group who was offered to attend a "Super Sweet 16" party by a "fat-ish Indian girl" was quite disturbed that the family featured on Pretty Wild is "too rich for no reason."

At one point I thought it would be an interesting idea to tell them that my father did drugs and my mother is a long-haired hippie with problems of her own but I let sleeping dogs lie.

I really like the people in my group actually. I rarely have opportunities to see young people's minds spinning. I like to watch it and feel like a rebel. Sometimes I wear my mall-bought leather jacket to up the ante.

"Yeah, I'm pretty rebellious, Gang," I would mutter to them under a cloud of fake cigarette smoke. "I have a Blackberry and I like John Mayer. What can I say? I'm into vintage like Nicole Richie. I'm really deep into 2009 retro right now."


Sorry this was stupid but that's what you get and if you don't like it, I'm not telling you to read it.

Good luck with life, Kiddies!

I'm at School. So What?

I'm about to go on amazon.com and buy every Nirvana album used. They will deliver these to my apartment where a slew of prostitutes who probably do not own a cd player will steal them off my front porch and I will wonder what happened to them while they pawn them off for some crack. I will contact the administrators of the Amazon site who will tell me that I should have received a confirmation email saying it was already mailed and there is no insurance on these items.

Please keep all of the above information under your hat, please.

I don't want anyone thinking I'm a fan of Nirvana or knowing that I live with prostitutes. Both would be difficult to explain my way out of - and both are not 100% accurate. There are complications to every truth, right?

Enjoy your day!

Opposites Attract (?)

Yesterday I attended a little function called "Rutgers Day" in which hundreds - maybe thousands - of Rutgers faculty and student body come out and enjoy a Saturday morning with friends, lovers, and dogs. They frolic around the greens together and pretend they're culturally knowledgable.

This was the first time my Jewish boyfriend and I decided to brave the granola crowd to see my favorite professor get an award. We fought about everything from how long the gyro line was to my obsession with leaving him for an older man. The usual mix.

I enjoy spending time with him but he's also a lunatic. Our specific areas of proficiency are very different: he appreciates serial killer documentaries, NPR (only), cooking shows, and Passover dinners while I'm more inclined towards Tom Petty, Keeping Up With the Kardashians, talking to animals, and Peru.

We both enjoy Tina Fey's impression of Sarah Palin though so that's good.

This morning he yelled "Excuse me!" at an Asian woman carrying several pairs of shoes who was trying to cut us in line for the bus. That was also good.

Otherwise he's a loser as previously noted.

Oh and he comes up with funny lines: "You should use my mouthwash. No one wants gingivitis, I know you want Tanquaray Gin but not gingivitis." What he doesn't know is that the gingivitis makes the gin taste even better.

No, that's sick. I'm sorry. Only a homeless person would understand my stupid humor.

This is The National

I'm amazing at wasting time. I've been sitting in Starbucks for three hours now on the computer doing absolutely nothing except drinking large coffees, watching other people drinking large coffees, and thinking about when I should leave. In the meantime I've been listening to that streaming of The National's "High Violet" - it's unbelievable. If you want to read a great article check out http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/25/magazine/25national-t.html. Seriously one of the best articles I've ever read, comprehensive and fluent, just overall excellent.

I'm an obsessive person as a whole but when a new album is coming out by a musician/band I really admire, the obsession reaches shocking heights and I'm not able to think of much else. It takes over my brain. The National is the kind of band that absorbs every inch of your soul.

I have a music blog so I don't know why I'm writing about music here but this isn't really a blog, it's just a dumb screen on your computer with a cool name. If you want to read something of even more substance than the NY Times article, go here : http://musicmavens.blogspot.com/ or just go outside and get off the computer completely. That would do you much more good than staying here and reading anymore.

Or if it's raining or you're ill or have no friends to play with, watch these great videos.

P.S. My favorite so far on "High Violet" is "Lemonworld". It's devastating.

Meow Mix

Charlie loves music. She's a " music catoisseur" if you will. Here's a sampling of her phenomenal taste along with a photograph of her posing with a few of her favorite vinyl pieces. I always tell her she was born in the wrong decade.

Bobby Darin - Multiplication
Eddy Arnold - Cattle Call
Radiohead - scatterbrain
Donovan - Catch the Wind
Led Zeppelin - Communication Breakdown
Ted Leo & the Pharmacists - The Great Communicator
Cat Stevens - If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out
Belle and Sebastian - Piazza, New York Catcher
Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers - I Need to Know

(just because she's a cat doesn't mean she's only going to like songs with "cat" in the title - obviously.)